When Nightmares Choke the Naiads
by Marquesa de Santos
Summary: In which Rumpelstiltskin realizes he is not the center of the universe. Rumbelle. Rated for mature themes. One-shot. Part One of the Nightmares Series.


**Warning: Mentions of rape. Nothing at all explicit, could probably pass as a K+ rating, but I'd rather be a little safe than sorry.**

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When Nightmares Choke the Naiads

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He found her sobbing in a corner of the castle.

Something had been wrong all day. The night prior had been filled with screams, and the heavy scent of a nightmare lingered in the air when she made breakfast, dark circles plaguing her face as she busied her hands with morning work.

She had asked at breakfast if he would teach her how to spin. Not gold, of course, but something, anything.

"Whatever for, dearie?"

"To forget."

He had hurried away from those haunted eyes, accusing him as they bore into his back. He concluded that she would get over her spell of homesickness, but he didn't have to sit there and tolerate her critical gaze until she did.

He had decided to go stir up trouble in a far off kingdom. By the time he came home, she should be settled. She might even miss human… well. She might miss company, however inhuman it might be. He had scurried away for eighteen hours, and here she was, still crying.

He froze for all of two seconds as the moonshine bathed her curled figure with a celestial glow and she was a naiad. Then she looked up at him and the illusion shattered. She had been reduced to a phlegmy, teary thing, all puffy eyed and red nosed.

"I'm sad," she managed, tightening her arms around her legs.

His arms lying across his chest, his legs apart, he quirked his eyebrow. "Well, dearie, I can see that."

He must have said something very wrong because a cry of anguish broke from her and her mouth was gaping in unadulterated grief. It was at this moment that Rumpelstiltskin looked outside himself and realized this had nothing to do with him. In the three months she had served as caretaker, Belle had proven herself to be a logical strong-minded princess. He recognized this, this emotion that transcended social and magical tiers, this emotion that was bound to make itself known to the sojourners of life.

Rumpelstiltskin knew grief.

It was a dear friend that comforted him in the middle of the night with thoughts of his Bae. It crept up on him on the good days in the form of nightmares. It compelled him to spin until his fingers were raw and the smell of gold lined his nostrils. Grief, that cruel mixture of guilt and self-hatred and sorrow, the sort that ripped moans from one's throat and left the voice raw for days. Her face was contorting into something he knew all too well.

Damnit.

"I can leave." Quieter than he had ever addressed her.

Sniffles and an unattractive snort and she shook her head. "Stay," she croaked, patting the floor beside her. So he did, and he sat, and he waited.

"It's silly."

"I'd be sorely disappointed if all of this has naught but a silly source, princess."

"I'm . . . it's just . . . I . . . I was going to marry him."

She was met with silence, and so continued.

"Papa was making me marry him. I didn't want to. I did, at some point… but then he… and then I didn't want to anymore. I'm just… I'm usually alright, but the dream last night… I just want to forget."

More silence. She looked at him, and his stare was intent. Understanding. Compassionate. "What'd he do, dearie?"

"He… did things I didn't want him to do. And he didn't listen when I told him… to stop, no. And papa told me I still had to marry… him. Said I especially had to marry him now." And the sobs came rushing and the anguish was back on her face and the gaping hole that was her mouth curved into a caricature of a crying clown and he wanted to run. Something made him stay. He conjured a handkerchief and offered it. To his surprise, she laughed upon seeing it, taking it from his hand with a grateful bow of her head.

"You saved me, you know."

"Oh?"

"I don't have to marry him, now." More tears. More anguish. Shorter outbursts. Weird smirk (smile?) of relief.

"Oh." He was at such a loss for words. "If you want, I can make… the nightmares. I can make the nightmares go away."

"For what price?" She scoffed.

"It's more a consequence than a price. Your dreams."

"Can't you just… I want to forget."

"No, dearie, that price is far too high. You'd lose all your memories. Your mother, dearie, you'd forget her. You'd be a blank slate."

"Oh." She looked so forlorn he couldn't help it…

"But I can teach you how to spin."

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**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**I am well aware that this is another odd little creature of a story. I didn't ask my little sister to look out for any weird mistakes because this is a little graphic for her.**


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